


geometry of a person

by painttheworldinpastels



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, M/M, me foolishly: a little math never hurt anybody, mentions of food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painttheworldinpastels/pseuds/painttheworldinpastels
Summary: Mark Lee is a puzzle.Donghyuck loves puzzles.(Not as much as he loves Mark, but he'll be damned before he says that to Mark's face.)Donghyuck wonders what shape of Mark he'll discover today.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 22
Kudos: 169





	geometry of a person

There's lots of advice and words of wisdom that Donghyuck holds close to his heart, but the one he treasures the most had come from his favorite aunt. When Donghyuck was younger and having difficulty understanding the world and everything in it (though really, now that Donghyuck thinks back on it, all he was really agonizing over was grade school math homework), his wonderful Aunt Jieun had imparted the words that would stick with him for eternity.

_ "It would be easier to solve things when you break them down into their simplest forms, dear." Aunt Jieun ruffles his hair, and Donghyuck leans into her touch. She leans over to take a closer look at Donghyuck's notebook. "500 ÷ 2. Okay, let's see here. Can you divide 50 by 2 for me, Hyuckie?" _

_ Donghyuck does as he's told and scribbles down the number 25. Aunt Jieun nods in approval. "That's great, sweetie! Now, what's the difference between 50 and 500?" _

_ Donghyuck pouts, thinking hard. He stares at the numbers for minutes on end, and it's only when his eyes land upon the round coaster underneath his glass of grape juice that he finds his answer. "The extra zero!" _

_ Aunt Jieun grins at him, genuinely proud. "Very good! Now, since there's one more zero at the end of 500 than 50, all you need to do is add a zero to 25. So it becomes?" _

_ "250?" _

_ "Correct! Let's check on our calculator, okay?" Donghyuck looks up at her and nods fiercely, eyes bright. Aunt Jieun walks into the spare room where she's currently staying in and reappears with a small calculator in hand. She lets Donghyuck type the numbers in, stubby fingers prodding at the buttons a little too hard, and she ruffles his hair again when the number 250 shows up on the display screen. "See? Isn't that much easier than long division with all those troublesome zeros?" _

_ Donghyuck nods again, thanking her with a tight hug.  _

_ "The zero trick doesn't always work," Aunt Jieun clarifies later on when they're sitting together on the sofa, the television playing a rerun of a Barney episode, "but I know you'll find other ways to figure the answers out. It's not just a math thing too! You can use this method to solve any problem." She boops Donghyuck's nose lightly. "You need lots of imagination to be able to break something down, and you have the biggest one I've ever seen. Who's the smart boy?" _

_ "I'm the smart boy!" Donghyuck's arm shoots up, like when he wants to get called on in class.  _

_ Aunt Jieun smiles down at him, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "Yes you are." _

Donghyuck smiles at the memory as fingers card through his hair, ruffling it like Aunt Jieun used to. She's somewhere in the Philippines now, propelled there by the winds of scientific research (his Aunt Jieun is the "Best Science Person Ever", a title ten year old Donghyuck had presented her with after she got promoted to the senior researcher position). 

The break-it-down strategy is good, and it  _ works _ . It served him well throughout the years, and continues to to this day. But sometimes there's problems he can't figure out how to break down, like the problem that is currently staring down at him with big, round doe eyes.

Mark Lee isn't a problem, to be exact. He's more like...a puzzle. A complicated puzzle who wore his heart on his sleeve, and yet whose thoughts and emotions were so difficult to decipher. A puzzle of mismatched yes and nos and contrasting actions; "go ahead and freeze to death" but tossing Donghyuck his jacket anyway, "you have to eat your veggies" as he takes away the ones Donghyuck hates and deposits them onto his own, "I love you" while shoving Donghyuck off the bed.

Mark Lee is a puzzle.

Donghyuck loves puzzles.

(Not as much as he loves Mark, but he'll be damned before he says that to Mark's face.)

There's a variety of ways to solve puzzles. You can solve them honestly, you can look for a hint, or you could cheat your way through them, like that time he disassembled a Rubik's Cube and put it back together with the colors all matching so he could brag about it to Renjun.

"You alright?" Mark questions, pinching Donghyuck's nose. His grip is light but Donghyuck grumbles about it anyway, getting up from Mark's lap to flick him on the forehead.

Mark tries again, rubbing his forehead as Donghyuck rubs his nose. "What are you thinking about?"

_ You _ , Donghyuck could say.

"Food," is what comes out of his mouth. Mark is sheepish, moving his hand to rub at his nape instead. "Nothing edible in the fridge, huh?"

"You forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday."

"Sorry." Mark takes Donghyuck's hand and gives it a squeeze. "I'll order takeout tonight and then I'll drop by the supermarket tomorrow after work, I promise."

Donghyuck rolls his eyes playfully and curls back up on the couch once more, resting his head on Mark's thighs and watching him pull out his phone to scroll through Yogiyo and have food delivered. From this angle, Mark's chin looks unnaturally pointy...like a triangle. Donghyuck reaches up to poke at it, and Mark latches onto Donghyuck's hand once more to stop him.

The only sounds that fill their cramped apartment in Hongdae is the tap-tap-tapping coming from Mark's phone. Donghyuck isn't bothered by the silence, but he hums a little tune anyway. Mark fidgets with Donghyuck's fingers, giving him a soft smile shaped like a crescent.

Shaped.

Shapes.  _ That's it. _

The phone in Mark's hands is a rectangle. The sofa they're sitting on is a  _ really _ long rectangle, combined with smaller rectangles. Their coffee table is a circle, a strong circle that props up Mark's legs because that's how he likes to sit, the filthy heathen.

He could probably break Mark down into shapes too, now that he thinks about it. His resolve manifests in the way he squeezes Mark's hand uncomfortably hard, and Mark looks away from his phone to glance down at him. "Is something wrong? Kimchijjigae and bulgogi, right? Unless you want something else? Fried chicken?"

"Kimchijjigae is fine," Donghyuck drawls lazily. He gives Mark's hand another squeeze, lightly this time. "I'm just...glad. That you're here. Even though we're starving because of you."

Mark lets out a laugh, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Donghyuck's forehead. "I'll make it up to you."

Mark brings his attention back to the food order, and as Donghyuck lays down on Mark's lap (which is a tad too firm and not very comfortable, but it's Donghyuck favorite place to be anyway), he wonders what shape of Mark he'll discover today.

◯

Mark's head is a big circle.

This is an undisputed fact, a piece of information that their entire friend group swears by. Donghyuck often jokes that his head is so big because it's so full of air, but Mark argues that it's enormous because of his giant galaxy brain. Donghyuck lets Mark win this argument when they're alone, lets him throw his English memes around even though Donghyuck doesn't get what they mean exactly. Small sacrifices for love, Donghyuck supposes.

A circle is a set of points on a plate which are equidistant from a fixed point called center. At least, that's what his high school geometry teacher had drilled into his head.

Technically the center of Mark's circular face would be his nose, but Donghyuck makes an exception to the rule and moves a bit downwards, to the chapped lips that he's memorized by kissing a thousand times. He's familiarized himself with Mark's mouth, disgusting as it might sound, letting his tongue explore every nook and cranny, every crevice. Donghyuck probably does a better job of ridding Mark's mouth of food bits than Mark's toothbrush does.

Mark's lips do other things aside from kissing, too. It helps form and articulate Mark's many ramblings, opinions, and ideas, and Donghyuck finds delight in hearing Mark blab on about anything and everything—even when he doesn't agree with Mark, and even when what comes out of Mark's mouth makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Those lips were also what voiced the confession that Donghyuck was too cowardly to say himself, and for that Donghyuck is grateful.

Donghyuck decides that he really,  _ really _ likes Mark's lips, though that's probably a given with how often he gives and receives kisses. 

Lips that brush against his temple, his forehead, his cheek. Lips that nag him about forgetting to eat breakfast and leaving the WiFi router on overnight. Lips that tell him to be careful as they seperate for work, and lips that remind him not to pick up stray animals and take them home.

(Those same lips vow to get them a cat, if they manage to survive living together for a year. Donghyuck counts down the days—only 87 to go.)

Lips that congratulate him when he does something well, and console him when he doesn't. Lips that tell him how valuable he is, how much he matters. Lips that kiss him good morning and good night.

□

Mark's torso is a square.

It's solid and warm, and it's an excellent pillow for mornings like these.

"Why are you up so early?" Mark's nails graze Donghyuck's scalp lightly, and Donghyuck purrs. Mark scratches harder, an attempt to hear that sound again. Donghyuck doesn't give him the satisfaction, rolling off of him and sighing when his bare back hits the cold bed sheets.

Mark props himself up with an elbow to face him, face scrunched up in either constipation or worry. Maybe both. "You sure you're okay? You've been waking up earlier than usual lately."

"The sunrise is pretty." Donghyuck's voice is still scratchy from sleep. From where Donghyuck is lying down he catches glimpses of a sky tinged with watercolor oranges and blues, sunrays starting to peek through the window blinds. He reaches out to drag his fingers down Mark's uncovered chest, mapping out freckles and moles. Mark lets him, simply staring.

Eventually Mark stretches and reaches over to check his phone. "It's 8 a.m. now."

Donghyuck lets out a noncommittal sound. He's moved on from Mark's chest, trailing his fingers along Mark's shoulders, Mark's neck. He moves closer to press languid kisses against whatever part of Mark's body he can reach, and Mark shivers. 

"We should get up."

"Mmm."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Mmm."

"Are you still sleepy?"

"Mmm."

_ "Donghyuck." _

_ "Mark." _ Donghyuck's voice is breathy, mouth lingering on Mark's clavicle. He lets his hands wander down the expanse of Mark's back, and Mark sighs. In defeat or pleasure, Donghyuck doesn't care. He continues littering light pecks along Mark's skin, and Mark pulls him closer. 

Mark's torso is a square, strong and sturdy. His body has been buffing up, and Donghyuck doesn't dislike it. He kisses one of Mark's pectorals, and Mark mewls.

"You're like a kitten," Donghyuck comments offhandedly, going back to his task. His next victim is the other pectoral, but this time Mark doesn't make cute sounds—he moans, the sound reverberating around the room.

"We have to get up," Mark insists, adamant this time. "We're supposed to be meeting the others for lunch today."

"You said it's just 8 a.m."

"It's probably closer to 9 now." Mark twirls a lock of Donghyuck's hair on his finger. "We should get ready."

"They're always late, anyway. I bet you Jaemin won't show up until an hour later."

"And you want to copy him?"

"Just a few more minutes?" Donghyuck blinks up at Mark, giving him the sultriest look his slightly still sleepy self can muster. His face must look funny, since Mark only laughs at him and kisses his nose before getting up.

Donghyuck stubbornly stays in bed. Mark shakes his head fondly as he pulls up the blinds, and Donghyuck brings a hand up to shield himself from the brightness.

Mark stands with his back to the sun, his figure bathed in morning light. He has to squint to see Mark clearly but there's no denying the robustness of Mark's form. Mark's hair, however, is sticking up every which way, bringing a soft smile to Donghyuck's lips. He's Adonis, he's a dream, but he also looks a little like a lost puppy, which wrings a giggle out of Donghyuck.

Like this, Mark looks like an angel.

Apparently, he and Mark aren't on the same wavelength. His face is scrunched up again and he prowls back to the bed, perching on top of Donghyuck's body to pin him there.

"You look like pure sin," Mark growls into Donghyuck's ear. The blanket falls farther, leaving Donghyuck totally unclad, and Mark presses kisses to Donghyuck's torso just like Donghyuck had to him.

_ Oh well _ , Donghyuck thinks as Mark sucks a hickey onto his neck.  _ Guess we'll be late to that lunch date after all. _

▭

Mark's limbs are rectangles.

They're long, and they used to be lanky. Gone are those days however, since Mark had started going to the gym regularly after meeting the Big Tiddy Squad (originally only composed of Jaehyun and Johnny, current members now include Mark and Donghyuck's bestie for the restie Lee Jeno).

It's fun to feel them up. It's one of Donghyuck's favorite pastimes actually, a privilege he shamelessly flaunts as Mark Lee's Boyfriend. Much like Mark's chest, his arms are strong and firm, and when they wound around Donghyuck, he feels like he can take on the world.

There's not much to say, really. Donghyuck loves the rectangular limbs that raise Mark up to reach the can opener he had foolishly left on the top shelf, the shelf just  _ barely _ out of Donghyuck's reach. Rectangular limbs that are good for chores, for errands, and for carrying things (and people).

Rectangular limbs that encircle Donghyuck at night, latching onto him like a koala bear. Rectangular limbs that hold Donghyuck close, and make him feel safe.

⬟

Donghyuck has trouble deciding on a shape for Mark's hands, but he ultimately settles on a pentagon. Five fingers equates to five sides. It makes sense.

Donghyuck likes Mark's hands a lot. They're calloused from guitar playing and from countless good deeds, from helping Donghyuck's mom uproot weeds in the garden to volunteering to wash dishes but forgetting to put on gloves. They're rough and Donghyuck feels Mark flinch with insecurity whenever he plays with them, so Donghyuck always makes sure to cover them with smooches.

Donghyuck frowns now, as Mark runs his hands under water for all of three seconds. "You're not going to use soap?"

"Does it matter?"

_ "Yes." _ Donghyuck grits his teeth. "Do you know how many germs you've touched today?"

"How many?"

"A lot! There's at least 1500 bacteria per square centimeter of your palm, and you've got big monster hands, so imagine how many germs you're potentially carrying right now!" Donghyuck marches over, yanking the liquid hand soap from where it's perched on the sink and motioning Mark to cup his hands. Mark does as he's told, and Donghyuck squeezes a good amount onto Mark's waiting hands.

"There are good germs, though," Mark says, just to get a rise out of Donghyuck.

It works. "And bad ones too! You're joking—"

"I am. Relax, Hyuck." Mark's smile is playful, a slight smirk dancing on his lips, and Donghyuck feels his heart beat a little faster, a little harder. Donghyuck pushes Mark away from the sink with a grumble to disguise the feeling.

Later on, when they're sitting together on the sofa, Donghyuck's head perched on Mark's shoulder and Mark's hand entwined with his, he feels Mark's gaze burning a hole into the side of his head. With a sigh, Donghyuck pauses the show they were watching and turns to Mark expectantly.

Mark looks nervous. "No matter how much I moisturize," he starts, rubbing his thumb against Donghyuck's knuckles, "they're not going to become baby's bottom soft and smooth, Hyuckie."

Donghyuck is confused, until he's not. He's quick to grab Mark's other hand. "Is that what you think I want?"

Mark isn't looking at him, eyes flitting to every piece of furniture in the living room. Donghyuck follows his eyes and is momentarily distracted by the thought of adding house plants to spruce up the place (maybe a few hanging plants, and a bonsai would look nice as a table centerpiece) but he snaps back to attention when he hears Mark sigh deeply.  _ "Mark." _

"No." Mark's voice is unwavering, sure. "No, I don't think that's what you want. I  _ know _ that's not what you want, but..." He trails off.

Donghyuck pulls Mark's hands up to his lips, pressing light kisses to each of his knuckles. Mark doesn't say a word.

Donghyuck spreads Mark's hands open and sandwiches his face between them. Mark's palms are holding Donghyuck's cheeks now, and Mark is still silent. Donghyuck turns his head to kiss Mark's right palm, and then his left. That's when a sound escapes Mark, a sharp intake of breath that Donghyuck wouldn't have noticed if they weren't sitting so close together.

"I like your hands just the way they are," Donghyuck mumbles against his palm. He faces forward with a cheeky grin. "You know, when they're clean."

Mark releases Donghyuck's face with a snicker. "They're always clean!"

"With  _ soap _ ."

Mark throws his hands into the air. "Fine, you win. Buy those nice smelling soaps you wanted to put in the cart last week."

"As much as I'd love to, the eucalyptus humidifier oil supply is dwindling so we have to buy more, since you don't like how the rose one smells. No fancy soaps until next  _ next _ week, when we have budget to spare."

"Whatever." Mark rolls his eyes but he reaches for Donghyuck's hand again, giving it a strong squeeze.

Mark's hands are coarse, and Donghyuck wouldn't change a thing about them. Donghyuck likes the pentagonal hands that flick through Netflix trailers at lightning speed, only stopping when the first few seconds catch his eye. Pentagonal hands that chop onions because Donghyuck doesn't like doing it himself, unable to make it through the whole bulb without three days' worth of tears.

Pentagonal hands that grasp Donghyuck's own, never to let go.

△

Frankly, triangles are Donghyuck's favorite shape.

Three sides, sometimes equal, sometimes not. They're the most versatile of shapes, always transforming, always present as long as there's angles to be found. Donghyuck likes them so much that he's got a whole playlist of songs about triangles.

Sagakhyeong. Sānjiǎoxíng. Kolmio. Trikotnik. Dreieck. Trougao. Háromszög. Trojúhelník. Tatsulok. Tam giác. Segitiga. Sankaku.  _ A triangle by any other name would still be as sweet, _ Donghyuck murmurs to himself as he cuts carrots into little triangles.

He's the first one home today. Mark's shift would end in forty minutes, and it would take him another thirty to get home. Just enough time to make Japanese curry, which Mark had been craving after Shotaro had served it to them at last month's group lunch date.

Donghyuck takes out the largest pot they own and starts cooking the beef chunks. He moves the meat to a different container when they start to brown and then he caramelizes onions in the same pot, tossing potatoes and carrots and the beef in when he's satisfied with the onions' color. He pours water in the pot and lets it simmer until everything is soft before adding the curry roux he had borrowed (yes,  _ with permission _ ) from Shotaro's pantry, mixing it as well as he can. 

The recipe Shotaro sent him had suggested adding a small amount of something sweet to the concoction so he debates between apricot jam and honey for a good five minutes before deciding to go with whatever he grabbed first, which was the jam. He adds a spoonful each of ketchup (may Mark never know what's in his new favorite dish because oh boy), worchestire sauce, and soy sauce before calling it a day. He checks to see if the rice is done and then he sits down at the dinner table, waiting for Mark so they could eat it together. In the meantime, as he folds his handkerchief into a boat, his mind drifts back to triangles.

Mark's feet are triangular, if Donghyuck tries hard enough. The toes can be one point, the heel another, and the ankle the last. An obtuse triangle. Or maybe scalene? Donghyuck will have to double check later.

Mark's feet aren't comically large, but they're not dainty either. He's able to find well-fitting shoes without too much fuss, though he only buys from one brand. Picky bastard.

Donghyuck hears the lock jingle and he gets up to scoop the rice and curry into bowls, still steaming hot. He feels more than hears Mark's footsteps, and he isn't surprised when sturdy arms wrap around his waist. "I'm home," Mark whispers, kissing Donghyuck's temple. "Woah, is that Japanese curry?!"

It's at that moment, with Mark's arms around him and eyes sparkling like stars, with the aroma of a warm, home cooked meal surrounding them, that Donghyuck determines that Mark's feet are his favorite part of Mark's symmetry. Triangular feet that are nimble and quick whenever Donghyuck asks him for a favor, triangular feet that ran at who-knows-what speed to catch the thief who had stolen Jisung's then new phone back in high school.

Triangular feet that walk through the door and bring Mark home to him.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the lyrics of Jeong Sewoon's Find You from his [newest album!](https://open.spotify.com/album/43xZhTwfBW3tsmtjTuT3XM?si=jyusp1tqTOGwrM8afpAqmA) If you enjoyed this fic, I'd highly appreciate it if you could give his latest title track [In the Dark](https://youtu.be/q-WJz4gt_6w) a listen! :]
> 
> If Ikaruga Misumi says triangles are the best, then triangles are the best <3 This is me manifesting SHI☆NO☆BI Sumi for when he comes out on the EN server, please come home bub
> 
> twt: [@whatsavotingacc](https://twitter.com/whatsavotingacc?s=09)


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